


Fish or Cut Bait

by bimmykimmy



Series: Good ole Boys [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: 50s au, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Mutual Pining, southern country
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-10
Updated: 2017-08-10
Packaged: 2018-12-13 16:25:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11763801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bimmykimmy/pseuds/bimmykimmy
Summary: Definition: Do it or quit talking about it.i.e Keith and Hunk are a couple of good ole boys in the 50s with a dadgum crush on each other and Keith’s father, Lance, and practically everyone on earth knows.





	Fish or Cut Bait

\--

_And now truth be known since I've met you boy_  
_I've been walkin' around in my own little joy_  
_One look in my eyes and darlin' any fool could see_  
_That you have that effect on me_

\--

 

When that singular cloud finally wedges itself between the sun and Keith, he lets out a sigh of relief. The day isn’t particularly scorching, but the blaring sun burning your already dry skin isn’t exactly the best feeling in the world. He has the chafing to prove it. The morning starts off the same as it normally does; with Keith banging his fist on William’s  bedroom door, yelling at him for not already being awake. The rest of the morning plays out as if it were scripted. Keith makes them breakfast—beans and toast or eggs and toast or toast and…toast. Then it’s throwing a clean shirt at his father because Lord knows he wouldn’t find one for himself. Then it’s out to the grind.

That’s where they’re at now.

Keith tugs at the swooping collar of his white tank top with a gloved hand as he looks down at the tower of hay that seemingly never gets smaller. He’s perched on top of it, sending bundles down for what seems like hours. Ever since his dad’s back injury, Keith has been in charge of most of the heavy lifting on the farm. He doesn’t mind it, but it does leave him too tired to go into town to do…anything. There’s the diner, which he knows a couple people his age hang out. The theatre; he’s never really been into shows anyway. He also knows the fair is going on this weekend. He’s debated going to it almost every night this week thus far. Usually the only time he really goes is when he’s able to secure some extra bucks to enter into the competition. The jar filled with a few pennies and a nickel that sits in his bedroom in the attic is not very promising this year.

“What’s the hold up?” says William suddenly, pulling Keith from his musings. Keith blinks down at him as his father slips his knife under a string and lifts a big handful over the fence. The goats are quite excited about it, let me tell you. William looks up, lifting a hand to shield his eyes from the sun that, much to Keith’s dismay, quickly came back when the small cloud continued its course. “Tired already? It’s barely nine.”

He laughs when Keith’s expression quickly morphs into a glare. Keith tosses another bundle downward. William dodges it easily enough, hoists it over his shoulder, and walks further down the fence line. As he spreads the hay, their small but aggressive group of goats follow him eagerly. Soon enough, a tall red roan comes out of the barn; making a B-line toward _her_ spot. She snorts as she reaches the far edge of the fence, waiting patiently for her share with ears twitching in interest.

Keith, still on his perch, turns back to his work to get a few more down.

“Hey girl,” William gives her a gentle rub on the nose as he gives her what she ultimately, _actually_ wants. He smiles warmly and pets her tiny white patch between her eyes while looking out at his land. His eyes trail the horizon and stop on the rusty colored dirt road. A knowing smile stretches his dried lips when he sees that familiar yellow piece of junk rattling as it comes over the hill.

A sharp whistle catches Keith’s attention but he keeps at his work, reaching forward at a particularly ill-placed bundle. He stretches, lifting one leg. “Yeah?” he strains and calls out to his dad.

“Your suitor is here.”

Keith snorts, rolling his eyes as he leans further, wiggling his fingers to try to grab the string. He doesn’t respond to his father’s teasing. It is a special gift he’s adapted over the years.

“I’m serious, Keith, he’s a few hours early!”

“Dad I _told_ you,” Keith begins his usual lie. He lets out another strained noise as he continues into the pre-formed sentence. “I don’t care about—”

He does not hear the truck until it backfires and spooks all of the animals and himself. Keith jolts at the noise, heart leaping to his throat for only a moment before he looks over his shoulder in a panic.

“He’s already here?!” Keith asks intelligently.

William glances over at his son who’s unhelpfully frozen on top of the hay stack in his rather inefficient hay-hoisting pose and smiles. He shakes his head while dumping the rest of the bundle of hay over the fence for the red roan. He heads over to the truck that is backing up onto their small dirt driveway in front of the cattle shed.

“Hunk,” Williams says while he tugs off his glove and rubs his hand on his jeans. He extends his hand to the person exiting the truck.

“Mr. Kogane!” Hunk answers with a wide smile and a firm handshake.

“I told you to call me Bill, son.”

“Right,” Hunk laughs sheepishly. “Sorry, I’m a bit early. I thought with the fair, traffic would be worse.”

“Not a problem,” William shifts his hand from Hunk’s and claps him heartily on the shoulder. He goes right to business. “Mind if borrow your guns? I have particularly heavy truck wheels that need movin’.”

“Sure,” Hunk responds as he leans in his truck to take the key out. They then both make their way to the faded red barn. Hunk pauses for only a moment, glancing over at the tall pile of hay.

William unchains the door and walks sideways, sliding it open, and Hunk’s eyes follow him for a bit before searching elsewhere once again. William smiles into his shoulder, knowing what’s coming next.

“Where’s Keith?”

“Oh, he’s around.”

“Oh…”

There’s another pause and William finds that it’s a struggle to not countdown to—

“How’s he doing?”

“Hard working, but with discipline issues. Never listens to me. So the usual,” William leads Hunk into the barn and stuffs both of his gloves into his back pocket.

“Has he tried that baked bacon and beans recipe I told him about?”

William snorts and Hunk takes that as a resounding No.

The sun peaks in through some of the weathered wood up top, dust particles sparkling in the rays and dancing slowly down as if they were underwater. Hunk whistles when William pulls a tarp away and reveals an extremely broken looking tractor.

“Just the wheels needs moving, huh?”

William grins and gives Hunk another hearty clap on the shoulder. “For now, at least. Maybe I can salvage it someday.”

“I could give it a look?” Hunk suggests as William hands him his gloves.

“Maybe another time. The fair is tonight, I don’t want to keep ya.”

“Right,” Hunk chews on the inside of his cheek as he feels his face warm a bit. He hopes William doesn’t notice (he does). Hunk clears his throat in the least subtle way possible and sighs into his next words. “So where do you want this?”

“Just bring it ‘round. I want to clear this space up.”

“Got it!”

Back outside, Keith takes it upon himself to finish with the rounds. Of course, he had not-so-discretely and quickly hid behind a bundle of hay when Hunk got out of his truck. That’s something he’s been working on. The whole…not hiding thing. It’s a work in progress.

He stops by Red and gives her a pet before heading back over to the still rather impressive haystack. He climbs up one and reaches upward to grab one stacked farther back against the fence.

As soon as his hands grab the string, he glances over his shoulder, his father’s laughter catching his attention. He promptly forgets his own name and the year when Hunk exits the barn pushing the large wheel. His sleeves are rolled up and his cheeks puff when he squats a little, shifting to turn the wheel and give it a large shove in the other direction.

Keith’s lips open, jaw slack and eyes widening. Much like Hunk’s impossibly still-functioning truck, Keith’s brain shuts down but surprisingly he stays alive. He watches Hunk carefully lean the wheel against the side of the barn. His arm muscles bulge from exertion and there is a fresh sheen of sweat starting to form on his dark skin.

Hunk’s mouth moves as he speaks happily with William but Keith’s ears have also decided to shut down. He finds himself subconsciously leaning when they head back into the barn. Keith’s eyes follow Hunk, his body leaning further and further to keep his gaze on him. The haystack he presses his weight against, however, has other plans and promptly gives way. Keith tumbles forward, the two or three bundles of hay topple over too, and he falls face first into the stacks. His short yell lifts high into the air, catching both William’s and Hunk’s attention for only a moment. When they see nothing but happily eating goats and hear a faint moo or two from the cattle shed, they both shrug and walk into the barn.

Keith turns over in the hay, arms stretched out on either side of him, palms up, and he stares at the clear blue sky. He wonders if this is where he should live now, but soon decides that’s just implausible. Instead, he climbs out with a small grunt and dusts off his shirt and jeans.

With one last forlorn glance to the barn, Keith sighs and shakes his head. He had already decided how hopeless he was. It just feels like another nail in the coffin whenever he succumbs to his bad luck. He takes one last bundle and carries it over to the dairy shed; taking out his own knife and slicing it free from the strings.

He’s lost in his own thoughts again when he hears Hunk’s usual greeting.

“I wouldn’t high tail without sayin’ hello first.”

Keith straightens a little, turning on his heel just after tossing the last of the hay over the side of the grate as if he were getting rid of incriminating evidence.

“Hunk!” he says loudly, too loudly. He readjusts his volume and leans against the grate. Hunk walks over to him with a beaming smile; his sleeves still bunched up at his shoulders.

“You were here?” Keith tugs off his gloves and stuffs them into his pocket before crossing his arms in front of his chest coolly. “I didn’t know.” He’s a terrible liar but the odds are in his favor, he feels good about it.

“Oh,” Hunk’s eyebrows rise. “You’ve got uh,” he trails off and points to his own head.

Keith shifts from his lean, straightening up and shoulders slacking a tad. “What?”

“In your hair?” His finger shifts to point at Keith now.

Keith narrows his eyes to decipher what he’s talking about, but eventually reaches up into his hair and feels the telltale prickly stalk of hay. His eyes widen in (mild) horror and he quickly cards his fingers through to rid himself of the embarrassment.

It’s too late though. His face burns pink as Hunk’s soft chuckle forces Keith to look away.

“I was, um,” Keith reaches for an excuse. One that preferably did not involve admitting to Hunk that he’d fallen into the haystack while he was ogling. No, that is definitely not an option.

“Saving it for later?” Hunk offers.

Keith closes his eyes and smiles with a soft yet exasperated sigh. He looks back up at Hunk, who thankfully decides to not press further on the matter. Instead, he grins and nods his head toward the entrance of the shed. Keith follows him out toward the bright yellow truck. In the corner of his eye, he sees his dad give an enthusiastic thumbs up from the front porch.

When Hunk turns and unhooks the back latch, Keith mouths _Go Away_ and waves two very obnoxious times. William laughs and shakes his head as he enters the house.

The tailgate squeaks horribly--as it always does--when Hunk opens it and he leans forward to grab one of the many crates of empty glass milk bottles. They clink as he slides it forward.

“I brought a few extras today,” Hunk says over a small grunt. “Just in case.”

There is a suspicion in Keith’s gut that they will not need any extra. His father and he have been running short on many things lately. However, he doesn’t want to bother Hunk with any of that, so he simply begins taking the crates from Hunk and loads them off to the cattle shed.

“So,” Hunk begins as they stay in silence for a considerable amount of time. “The fair is starting tonight.”

Keith lets out a hum as he opens the ice box in the corner, but doesn’t offer much more than that. He has a feeling he knows where this is going. He feels his heart sink to his gut.

Hunk scrubs his hand over his face and tries again. “Should be fun.”

“I suppose so, yeah,” Keith responds as he hands Hunk a different crate filled with full bottles. His eyes very obviously avoid Hunk's.

Hunk blinks owlishly for a moment and follows Keith back out to the truck. He immediately knows there’s something bothering Keith, so he words the question carefully. Maybe Keith is nervous.

“You’re doing barrel racing tonight, right?”

“I- No,” Keith stammers. His stomach twists in a knot as he pushes the crate into the bed of the truck.

“No? But you’ve been looking forward to it for months.”

Keith’s expression scrunches at that. He wants to go, desperately. He loves racing, probably just as much as Red does.

But there’s no way. The fair snuck up on him so quickly, he simply didn’t have enough time to save for an entry voucher for the race let alone tickets for food, games, rides.

“Dad and I are pretty hard run right now. He needs a lot of help around here, you know? I just…I probably won’t go.”

Hunk’s posture visibly weakens and he looks down at his boots for a moment before looking back up. “Well, alright then.” He perks up a bit, shaking off the disappointment and gives his best smile. He shuts the tailgate. “Maybe next year.”

Keith’s chest tightens as he follows Hunk around the truck, watching him hop in and shut the creaky door. Hunk shifts his elbow to hang out the window.

“I’ll see you next week?”

“Yeah,” is all that Keith says as Hunk starts the truck after two or three failed attempts. It sputters a little but is kicking up dust on the dirt road, loudly rolling away in no time. Keith lifts his hand in a frozen wave and Hunk’s hand lifts before his big yellow abomination groans over the hill. Keith’s eyes fall to his feet. “Yeah.”

\--

“What in the hell are you talking about?” William slams the glass of lemonade down in front of Keith and quickly crosses his arms.

Keith keeps his eyes downcast as he reaches for the glass. The cold condensation feels good on his blistered palms. He slides it closer to himself.

“You been workin’ Red like the dickens for months now and you’re tellin’ me you ain’t goin’?!”

Keith just shakes his head, to which William lets out noise of frustration.

“And that good ole boy Hunk asked you if you were goin’?!”

Keith practically winces at that, but nods his head.

“Keith, what in the _hell_ are you talking about?” his father repeats, inflection quickly becoming less and less distinguishable from just angry noises.

“I don’t have the money,” Keith finally yields and it’s quickly followed by a telling silence. Keith swallows heavily before looking up at his dad.

“Keith…” his voice is softer now, calm, and Keith knows what he’s going to say before he says it.

William closes his eyes and brings his hand up to his forehead and wipes away some sweat. “Please tell me you didn’t spend your racin’ savings on my pain meds all this time.”

The guilt is quite evident on Keith’s expression and his dad lets out an exasperated sigh.

“We’ve been short for the last two months,” Keith explains as he lifts his hand and gestures vaguely at the window toward the farm. “I didn’t want you to worry!”

 “Dangummit, Keith!” he sits down with a huff, his body practically melts into the chair. “You’ve put me in a sticky situation. I have no choice.”

Keith tilts his head a little. “What?”

“Well,” William leans forward and taps his finger on an old, brown and pink placemat. “Now I have to give you your birthday present early.”

“Dad, what—”

William stands before Keith can inquire any more. Keith watches him leave the kitchen, disappearing into the hallway and up to his bedroom. He hears the creaking of the floorboards and a small bump and a muted curse.

Keith follows soon after and his socked feet create tiny thuds against the hard wood floor when he makes it to the base of the stairs. There’s more shuffling from the second floor and another small curse.

“Dad?”

William finally comes down the stairs with a wide grin on his face and an envelope delicately betwixt his fingers.

“Say I’m the best father in the whole gosh darn world,” he gloats while leaning against the newel post and pointing the envelope toward Keith.

Keith takes it, but not without a confused quirk of his eyebrow. He looks up at his father after studying the blank paper.

“You gotta _open_ it, son,” William says with a small smile and shake of his head.

Keith does so and gasps when he sees a participant voucher for the barrel race. He looks up, eyes wide and mouth already forming a question. His father doesn’t let him say it, however, and he simply lifts his arms in mild surrender.

“I was saving it for the pumpkin festival competition near your birthday, since all of these things are run by the town hall anyways, but,” he shrugs and stuffs his hands into the front pockets of his jeans.

Words don’t come easily to Keith now. His heart flutters wildly in his chest and he’s fairly certain his hands tremble as he looks down at the voucher.

“Will I have enough time?!” is what he decides to go with. To that, William is now the one quirking an eyebrow.

“Enough time?” he asks incredulously. “Keith, it’s only _supper_. You have plenty of time to get there. I had Hunk tune up ole Betsy last week, and the trailer is already hitched too.”

Keith sprints out the front door faster than a sidewinder in a sand dune, boots be damned.

William’s surprised expression quickly melts into a soft smile. He shakes his head and looks up toward the ceiling wistfully saying, “He’s more and more like you every day.”

\--

Keith pulls up to the fair in ole Betsy with just enough time to not have to rush. Still, he works quickly as he slides out of the big truck and lands on the dusty, beaten down grass. William jumps out of the passenger’s side with a little less vigor and lets out a small grunt.

Keith rounds the trailer, slipping on his hat over his greasy hair. Lord knows he didn’t have time to shower. He chances a quick stealthy sniff under his armpit as he opens the trailer's door. Red is already shifting her stance, anxious to get out. Her tail whips once and she stomps her foot while glancing back at him.

“Hey, girl,” Keith says fondly. “Ready to run?” He grabs the lead hanging on the side, hooks it to her bridle, and turns her around to lead her out of the trailer. Over the crackling intercom he hears the first call for contestants and quickly hands the lead to William.

He’s busy hoisting Red’s saddle out of the truck bed when he feels a sharp elbow jab him in his side.

“Ow! What—”

His father simply smiles and presses his own hat further down his brow and nods, pointing his gaze somewhere behind Keith.

Keith, a little loss in the fray and nervousness of pre-competition set up, gives him a confused look. William rolls his eyes, makes a more prominent effort of pointing his gaze beyond Keith. Keith gets it now and turns around.

Hunk, with his two friends that Keith met maybe once or twice by chance, are standing and chatting at the ticket booth.

Keith quickly turns back around, feeling his face warm up already. He holds the saddle a little higher against his chest.

Suddenly, much to his horror, his father lets out another one of his ear piercing whistles. One that everyone in town knows. So, obviously the logical turn of events is as follows:

Hunk and his friends’ attentions perk up. They turn in Keith and William’s direction. Hunk’s tall friend says something and slaps him on the back. Hunk waves goodbye to them both. Hunk is now heading straight for them both.

Nope. Scratch that.

It’s just Keith now.

William gives Keith a warm rub on the shoulder before taking off to register Keith’s voucher and get him his number.

“Round ‘em up,” is all the sagely, father wisdom he can cough up before splitting.

There’s only mild panic settling in Keith’s gut when Hunk finally reaches him. He looks nice, almost too cleaned up for the county fair, but nice nonetheless. His hair is tidier than it was that morning and his shirt is freshly pressed. And it's tucked into jeans that look only slightly faded.

“Hi,” he greets Keith with a smile but his gaze darts quickly to the side for a split moment. He clears his throat. “You made it! Were you able to find some money lying around? I’m glad you’re here! I can’t wait to see you ride.”

Keith holds the saddle between them, not entirely knowing what to say at first. His blood pumps loudly in his ears and he swears his heart is 2.7 seconds away from busting out of his chest.

“I-Yes, I did.” Keith grimaces at his lack of loquaciousness.

Then there’s a pause. These happen quite often whenever Keith braves a conversation with him. He doesn’t mind it. Just wishes he were better at small talk. Luckily, Hunk gives him a perfect topic. One that he can easily cling on to.

“She looks…excited.” Hunk nods towards Red who looks at him, almost as if she knows they’re now talking about her. Her ears twitch in attention.

“Red likes running barrels almost as much as she likes chewing on her stall door.” Keith says with a fond smile and hoists the heavy leather saddle over Red’s back. “Though that’s probably something I should try to stop.”

“Oo, yeah not good.”

“She’s just going through a phase.”

Hunk chuckles at that. “Wait a second. You named a red roan ‘Red?’ I'd've thought it would be Kitty Rose or something.”

“It’s…not my most creative decision…”

“No, probably not.”

“I was 8! Give me a break,” Keith argues as he tightens the front cinch snuggly.

Hunk chuckles at that too. However, his lightheartedness falls away once again as he looks over at Red who nickers quietly. He doesn’t try very hard to conceal his concern; wringing his hands and shuffling his feet delicately to move farther away from Red.

Keith also doesn’t hide the smile on his face. He straightens up after finishing with the last cinch and places a hand on Red’s neck, patting curtly. Red huffs pleasantly, turning her head to Keith and nuzzling his hair for a moment, pushing his hat up and out of the way.

When Red shifts her stance, whipping her tail, Hunk lets out a small noise that has Keith holding back a snort.

“Problem?” he says into a wider smile and fixes his hat, which Red bumps almost immediately again.

“Uh, yes! Big problem. It’s a demon,” Hunk says as he backs up more. “A really, really tall demon.”

"But you've been around the farm plenty of times."

"That's when the animals are far away, behind bars, in farm jail. Where they can't hurt me."

“Red wouldn’t hurt a fly,” Keith says as Red most certainly uses her tail to demolish a fly that landed on her rear.

Hunk’s lips tighten, curling downward into a very unconvinced scowl.

Keith does laugh this time, unfortunately it’s at Hunk’s expense, but if Hunk is offended he doesn’t show it.

“Do you want to pet her?”

That does warrant a scandalized look from Hunk to which he replies, “Are you crazy? No way. She’ll bite me.”

Keith’s expression sours, brows furrowing. “No, she won’t. She’s gentle.” He says it so honestly that Hunk has half the heart to believe him. He still doesn’t look convinced though and he holds his hands closer to his chest, eyeing Red suspiciously.

There’s another hiccup in conversation when the loudspeaker crackles again. The two of them glance toward the sound then back at each other. Their eyes meet and they hold each other’s gaze for more than a hot second.

Keith feels his face start to warm and he notices a shy shade of burgundy creep on Hunk’s too.

“I’ll see you afterwards, yeah?” Hunk asks hopefully, flinching a little when Red nickers sweetly again.

A smile, probably lopsided but genuine, spreads across Keith’s lips and he nods, “You bet.”

\--

Keith’s hat flies off as he kicks Red into action. The start horn is still blaring by the time Red already passes the threshold to start the timer. Keith leans into the first turn, maneuvering Red the same way he’s practiced for weeks now. Sand kicks up brutally as she rounds the barrel sharply, Keith leaning into the turn.

His event his over before his mind even has time to catch up with him. The second horn blows and his time is clocked by a mustached man holding a stop watch and wearing a hat much too big to be feasible. The man tugs at his bolo tie and blusters in disbelief when he mutters Keith’s time to the judges on top of the wooden platform.

Keith dismounts Red and takes his hat from his dad, who’s already beaming with pride even without hearing Keith’s time. He claps his hand on Keith’s shoulder, resting it there as one of the judges stands up from the table and walks over to the board. The air is silent and Keith holds his breath, his father’s hand clutching his shoulder a bit more tightly.

When Keith’s number plaque slides into first place, Keith lets out a triumphant whoop and his father scoops him into his arms and hoists him high in the air.

“You did it!!” he yells.

“You’re going to hurt yourself, you idiot!” Keith turns red and punches him in the shoulder. “It’s not over yet either.”

It’s a solid argument, so his dad lets him down with one last proud squeeze. Keith isn’t the last contestant, but he’s ahead by quite a large margin. He sits down in the bleachers with his dad for the rest of the competition. He’d be a stinking liar if he said he didn’t smile when he saw Hunk in the crowd with his friends, clapping and hollering.

\--

“I taught him everything I know,” William boasts with his arm around Keith’s shoulder. Keith stays quiet, ducking under his hat as the small crowd around him wishes him congratulations and good job and wow you came out of nowhere.

The blue ribbon in his hand is soft and he glides his thumb along the ripples.

“Hi, Mr. Kogane!” Hunk’s voice causes Keith to go tense for only a moment. He looks up, already red in the face and his eyes go wide, and looks down once more. He chances his second stealthy sniff at his armpit for the night.

“Bill,” William corrects and lifts his hand and presses against Keith’s hat, adjusting it so it’s no longer covering his eyes and forcing him to look up. Before Keith can prepare any cool-demeanor, his father shoves him forward with his elbow. “I’m gonna go pester Coran from Fleet Farm and see if I can’t get him to give me a discount coupon. Enjoy the fair, boys!”

He gives Hunk a little wink, to which Hunk promptly looks away blushing.

Keith is thankful for his dad’s tactic; though he does wish he’d be less…obvious.

They’re both frozen, standing face to face, while the fair around them continues on loudly. They shift awkwardly, avoiding each other’s gazes.

Eventually, Hunk rubs the back of his neck and looks up through thick lashes and says, “You won.”

“Yeah, I…” Keith hooks his thumbs in his belt loops and adjusts his stance. He shrugs, “I did.”

“You were incredible,” Hunk says, expression brightening. “Honestly, I was afraid to blink.”

“I told you Red likes to run.”

Hunk chuckles and then they are stuck again. Another lull in conversation padded with the two of them simply smiling and staring at each other. This warrants them to break into another embarrassed laugh.

“Do you wanna get some cotton candy?” Hunk eventually asks with a jut of his thumb over his shoulder.

“Oh, I didn’t bring any money for—”

Before he can finish, Hunk is holding up two tickets for the food vendor. He flashes Keith a handsome grin before turning sheepish again.

“Is that okay?”

Keith knows his face is a deep pink again, and for once, he doesn’t give one gosh darn heck.

\--

The evening is, in a word, perfect. Keith doesn’t think he’s laughed this much in his entire lifetime. The cotton candy they ate sits light in his belly and he can’t imagine a better way to spend his free time. At this point, he’s completely forgotten the word ‘tired’ ever even existed.

They’re sitting across from each other on a vacant picnic table when Hunk looks up somewhere behind Keith. Keith takes this moment to appreciate how the fair lights glimmer in his dark eyes. And if Keith lets out a love-struck sigh, he doesn’t even notice. His cheek is _smooshed_ against his fist as he admires Hunk.

“Let’s Ferris wheel,” Hunk states suddenly, gaze falling to Keith.

“What?” Keith blinks.

“Ferris wheel!” Hunk repeats in case Keith didn’t hear him the first time.

“Oh, uh,” Keith is barely forming the word _Okay_ on his lips before Hunk is taking his hand and whisking him through the crowd. They maneuver quite easily, only minimal collisions. And even when those happen when the afflicted party sees who it is, they just give a small shake of their heads and a smile.

\--

Sitting in the Ferris wheel car is a lot less romantic as one would expect. Keith shifts a little as the fair employee shuts the metal bar over their legs. The cars shift one up, raising Keith and Hunk just a tad so the next people in line can get on.

“I haven’t been on one of these in years,” Keith says with a smile and looks over at Hunk. His smile quickly falls and his brows furrow. “Hunk? You okay?”

Hunk does not look okay. His eyes are wide and his hands are gripping the metal bar insanely tight.

Keith’s mouth forms the beginning of a few silent words before finally saying, “Are you…afraid of heights?”

The Ferris wheel lurches forward and they go even higher and pause again to load more people on.

Hunk’s lips are tight and he nods curtly.

Keith’s shoulders slump and his heart clenches a bit at how cute that is. He quickly sets his priorities and shakes his head, turning more toward Hunk.

“Why did you suggest this then?”

More chunky movement and Hunk lets out a low moan.

“Ohhhh my God. I don’t know! Lance said it was a good idea for a date!”

Keith’s eyes widen and his lips part ever so slightly. “A date?” he says softly, words forming around a smile.

“Aaaaaah—yes!” Hunk says as soon as the car starts moving again for real. “But I very much regret that decision now!”

“Oh.”

“What?” Hunk hears the disappointment in Keith’s tone and he turns back toward him. “No, Keith, not the date! I’ve been wanting to ask you out since last summer.”

“Oh!” his smile is back.

Hunk groans pitifully again and leans backwards against the backrest. “I should’ve just waited till I saw you at the diner.” He closes his eyes and shakes his head. “This was a mistake.”

Keith, despite probably feeling the most giddy he’s ever felt, also feels a twinge of pity for his newly-obtained date. He purses his lips and looks over the side of the car.

“Maybe I can flag them down? I’ll ask them to let us off once we lower. Oh, hey, there’s Lance, right?”

“What?” Hunk’s eyes shoot open and he leans over toward Keith, his large chest pressing against Keith’s shoulder. Keith promptly feels his entire body catch fire and his eyes are wide. “Oh no, please no. Oh, golly.”

They both stare down at Lance, who speaks with the current worker for a moment and trades places with them, obviously taking over their shift. He looks up at Hunk and Keith, making eye contact immediately. When that all-knowing smile spreads across his lips, Keith actually _feels_ Hunk’s groan this time.

Lance flashes them a wide grin and gives them two big thumbs up before turning back to the operating kiosk. Keith watches as Lance’s fingers walk over to the large key and just as Keith and Hunk lift over the highest point on the Ferris wheel, Lance turns that key and the ride stops.

The car swings back and forth for a while and Hunk has now officially put both of his hands over his face.

Keith sits there, not entirely sure what to do. So he sits and waits till the car slows its swinging, watching the Hunk statue next to him.

The sounds of the fair rise into the air and the lights look like sparkling, multicolored stars as Keith turns his gaze outward.

“I’m not very cool,” Hunk suddenly says, though it is muffled through his hands.

Keith turns his head and watches Hunk will away his hands, taking a deep breath in and out and finally looking at Keith.

“I wanted to impress you, you know? Cool guy, Hunk. A good ole boy with a fancy truck and—”

“The…yellow one?”

“Wh—Yes. What, why?”

“Oh,” Keith says with his eyebrows high. “Uh, no reason.”

Hunk groans once more and presses his face into his hands again, scrubbing them down his face. “This date is a total bust.”

“I don’t think so,” Keith responds easily enough and Hunk looks at him quickly.

“Really?”

“Well, considering I didn’t know it was a date until about…” Keith glances down and counts the Ferris wheel cars. “5 positions ago, I’d say it’s going really well.”

The smile that that gains from Hunk is one that Keith doesn’t forget for a real long time.

Time passes slowly up there on their perch. Who knows how Lance gets away with it. The two of them enjoy each other’s company, talking about who-cares-what, while the fair underneath them continues on.

“Oh, hey look! I see Pidge!” Hunk says after a beat. He points over the edge and Keith leans toward him and squints. He follows Hunk’s finger and eventually sees her at a booth with her brother and his husband.

Keith smiles and tries to wave to them, but it isn’t surprising they don’t see him. “This really is a cool spot to be.”

“Yeah,” Hunk agrees with a nod of his head. “You know after the initial panic, I think I’m finally enjoying th—” His words cut off immediately when he turns his head, finding himself nose to nose with a wide-eyed Keith.

Keith makes a mental note to add “freckles” to the list of things he didn’t know Hunk has.

Hunk’s face flushes and he leans backwards, recoiling a bit too quickly for the Ferris wheel’s car and it shakes a little, swinging idly.

“Woah, s-sorry,” he says. “That was clumsy of me.”

Before he has a chance to say much else, he feels Keith’s calloused hands grab the front of his shirt and tug him back to where he had just retreated from. Their lips collide a bit off center, but Keith chalks it up as a victory when he feels Hunk relax into the kiss.

In the distance, some fireworks explode into the night sky, followed by cheers from the crowd.

Keith smiles as Hunk’s hands find their way to his back, pulling him closer as the kiss deepens. Hunk is warm in his arms and Keith doesn’t understand how on earth he ever went this long without kissing him before.

Just as their lips part, the ride lurches forward again and they are carried to the ground slowly. They hold each other for a little while longer, staring into each other’s eyes. A mutual sense of relief washes over them both. As if this chase has gone on for far too long. If you ask anyone of the townsfolk, they will probably agree.

They come to the bottom and see an angry looking bald man scolding Lance (whose submissive glance peers up at the two of them and turns into a coquettish smile when they climb out of the car).

Keith gives him a small smile and walks by. Behind Keith’s back, Hunk gives Lance a thumbs up, much like the one Lance himself had given earlier. Lance does a little fist pump but is quickly scolded again and he turns his fake, apologetic attention back to his boss.

The two of them walk through the fair, more closely than before, and the night comes to an end. Keith finds himself looking forward to tomorrow’s day of work. Since tomorrow means one day closer to next week when their truck driver will pay them another visit.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading this entirely self-indulgent fic! Literally the only reason I wrote this was because I saw a pretty image of a red roan horse on google and was like "Keith would have that horse" et voila! The quote at the beginning is a song from Brad Paisley that I made gay.
> 
> This fic will be a part of a series, because I love this AU.


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